Maybe it was culture of the place I lived, or the culture of the times, or the culture of my circle of friends. Whatever it was, when my children were little it was frowned upon to brag on your own children . . . or at least I thought so.
Don’t get me wrong, I remember telling my boys how proud I was of them. I remember telling them how happy they made me, how handsome they were, how smart they were, how much I loved them. But that talk stayed between them and me. I never said to someone else, “Isn’t he the cutest, smartest little fellow?!”
These days I read a number of blogs written by young mothers. It always makes my heart soar when they write, “I have the most beautiful daughter!” or “He's the most perfect baby?” or “She’s so talented!" I regret that I felt constrained to be so modest about my absolutely wonderful children!
So, World, let me brag about my sons. Let me tell you some of the things I wanted to say back then.
Chris was the cutest little blond, curly-headed boy. He was smart, too. At two he used to pull the magnetic letters off the refrigerator door and run to me to tell me the sounds each letter made. He was so talented with his hands; building sets were his favorites. When he was about eight Dan gave him the erector set that had been his as a child. Chris played and built with that set for years. All together Chris had about eight years of music training (piano and trombone), and always surprised me at how easily he picked up musical theory. He was a people-person almost from day-one. He always had a fun-loving circle of friends around him. A person’s age didn’t matter to him. He had friends who were several years younger, and friends who were older. He even made friends with some of his teachers. Chris had the energy of a buzz saw and that energy brightened up any room he walked into. And he was a good kid.
Tim was cute as a button. He had brown eyes and pretty, thick, shiny dark hair. Dan always said that Tim had the best hair in the family. He was the most delightfully contented baby and toddler any mother could ask for. All you had to do was look at him and he would break out in a big smile. He was very affectionate and gave the best hugs and kisses. I had more than one of his teachers at school tell me that they'd take him home and keep him if they could. He was compassionate, always looking out for others. Tim looked at life from a different perspective than most people, and his unorthodox perceptions were often insightful. At an early age, Tim seemed to understand that things worth having were worth waiting for; he was patient and steady about life, not seeking immediate gratification. He chose his friends carefully, and those he chose never knew a more loyal friend than Tim. And he was a good kid.
There! I'm proud of my sons and it felt good to say so.